Militat Omnis Amans
by MalbecMalcontent
Summary: Spoiler Alert: Episodes from Pavlovich Brothers on. Red internal monologue in a few episodes. Originally a one shot, now a series of unrelated one shots.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Couldn't resist getting in Red's head on this one. It was a nice break from trying to write ACTUAL PHYSICAL romance (eeek!) for my companion piece to "Fine Feathers". Just a little one-shot to help me process my feelings after the Pavlovich Brothers, so SPOILERS!

**Militat omnis amans**. (Every lover is a soldier. Love is a warfare) - Ovid

(Continuing the scene when Red leans back and sighs in the car, right before the immunologist is boxed up.)

OooooooooooO

Red would help her. Lizzie might not have realized it yet, but he was prepared for just about every outcome.

_Militat omnis amans._

He did take an inordinate amount of pleasure in the irony of utilizing the very criminals that she was trying to catch to retrieve her nefarious husband.

He tilted his head and smiled, trying to decide how he should present Tom to her; _dead, dazed or gift-wrapped?_ Red would pay an exorbitant sum to see her face when she confronted Tom, now that his ruse had been fully revealed. She would descend, forsaking all caution and prudence, like Nemesis enraged. She was beautiful in her fury; sharp, bright and purposeful.

Perhaps she would torture the bastard. Red made note to remove all pens from the vicinity, as he would prefer that Lizzie save that particular trick for him. He rubbed his scar, wistfully.

Admittedly, he was a bit jealous of Tom. Though he'd prefer to not be accosted physically again (at least, not with a harmful intent), it was electrifying to see Lizzie snap.

She was so tightly wound, so contained.

But regrettably, he would remain on the sidelines of this reunion. While their previous business with "brother" Craig was at least slightly impersonal, Lizzie deserved to have Tom to herself, to vent her pain and betrayal in private.

He would wait and watch, as always. The course of action, or rather, inaction, familiar to him. He was surprised to discover the depth of his worry and fear for Lizzie, his most precious vulnerability. Letting her encounter danger was becoming more and more difficult. His hands gripped the leather on the armrest and he exhaled a breath that he forgot he was holding. She was so fierce, so passionate and yet still so fragile.

His concerns about what "Berlin" truly was and what it held in store for both of them mounted every day. While he was fairly certain Tom would not harm Lizzie physically, the man could have information that would be damaging to Red, and to the fragile level of trust he had established with her.

Red could not fully anticipate her reaction to some of his more gruesome secrets. While she deserved the truth, taking the last person who wanted only the best for her out of the picture could be destructive.

He took off his glasses, turned them around in his fingers. Red contemplated his unease, and dismissed it. He might not know where the situation was going, but it was already at full sail, so all he could do was pray and attempt to steer away from the rocks.

Replacing his glasses, he picked up his fedora. _Time to negotiate with the inbred Pavlovich barbarians. I hope they understand complete sentences._

His lips twisted into a smirk. _And they know with whom they're dealing_

AN: I know this was short, but hopefully it wasn't horrible. I just needed to resolve some things, and admittedly, a bit more time in Red's head. It's such a fantastic place to hang out :) . Please read and review.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello again, Blacklisters! I was surprised that some people suggested that I consider making this a series of one-shots, one for each episode. While I can't guarantee I will do it for every episode (who knows what scenes we'll have!), I'll write when it hits me. SPOILER ALERT: The Kingmaker, LAST SCENE

I own nothing except for my angst and a great deal of scarves.

OooooooooooooooooooooO

**Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur**

"Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time"

Red considered the tumbler in his grasp, trying to anchor himself in the sea of emotion breaking over him. An unfinished game of solitaire spread across the table, a futile attempt to engage a mind engulfed in misery.

Another wave of pain crested and hit him. He had hurt her, irrevocably. Red had begun to cause Lizzie pain within 24 hours of meeting her, and had wronged her beyond forgiveness within weeks.

To let her operate for so long without knowing precisely what his relationship to Sam was…well, obfuscation had initially seemed necessary for both her safety and the protection of his interests. He had ignored the inevitable consequences of losing her, and every time the prospect surfaced in his mind, he buried it under sarcasm, superiority and hubris. Some small part of him thought that he could ensure he would win the game, in the end. Perhaps while even winning Lizzie.

Instead, Red was afraid. Anxious that his carefully built house of cards consisting of half-truths, favors, promises, life-debts and manipulation was swaying, preparing to fall.

He held up the tumbler again, the whiskey glowing in the late twilight. In other situations, he could lie or charm his way back into someone's good graces, especially a woman. But Lizzie, _his Lizzie_, was gone, and rightfully so. One does not take away someone loves the most and expect forgiveness. Even though his situation differed, he understood that truth well enough on his own. Even if he had tried to dismiss it.

There was so much she had to understand, and yet, couldn't know. No matter how deeply his heart yearned for her, his first directive remained; to protect her.

He had been foolish to think, insane even, that his feelings were important. After everything he loved in life had been taken away from him, the idea that something, some small joy would returned to him was ludicrous.

Red closed his eyes, and inhaled, trying to catch a last breath of her perfume, but only smelled his own sweat, old cigars and whiskey. The air was stale with disappointment and heartbreak.

With another absentminded sip, he tried to move on to what he did best; planning and taking care of every detail. He doubted that he would make it out of this game alive, but he refused to take Lizzie down with him. As he had told her before, she deserved so much more then that.

His mind lingered on the memory of her hand in his, her radiant beauty and shy smile as they danced at the Syrian embassy, the relief in her voice when he returned from dealing with the mole.

His breath caught again as his arms ached, recalling the warmth of her body against his, his nose buried in her hair. She was redolent with the smell of sunshine, of soap, of a freshly floral perfume. He keenly felt the absence of her, not only from the room but now from his life.

He cleared the table of all the cards in front of him, and retrieved a legal pad from a side table. Red began drafting notes, a checklist and drawing various plans.

He never saw the king of spades hit the floor, nor the queen of hearts fall gently along side it, obscuring half of the card from view.

AN 2: SORRY SORRY SORRY! I just had to work out my feels from this episode. I needed catharsis and you all are my therapy group. Love you all. Please review if so inclined, I'd like to know if I should continue this series!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: SPOILERS - BERLIN CONCLUSION. A little snippet, helping me work through some of my Post-Berlin Conclusion feels. I know this is a bit AU, considering Lizzie's casual attitude, but I feel like SHE feels that she's worked through much of her feelings, and has accepted Red's reasons, even if she doesn't altogether agree with them. I own nothing of the Blacklist, and am still reeling from that finale.

OoooooooooooooooooooooO

_**Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae**_– "I feel once more the scars of the old flame" - Virgil

Red applied fresh gauze to the graze in front of the window, his work lit by moonlight. Cool air touched the sensitive scars on his back as his shirt slid further down.

Lizzie came up behind him, removing his hands from the wound and securing the dressing. Her hands caressed the scrolling burn pattern covering his back. From a few past awkward contortions in bathroom mirrors, he knew that it resembled the root structure of a tree more then the destructive wake of an inferno.

Her fingers followed the branches down, farther under the shirt, pausing and then returning the way they came.

Red's breath caught. He waited for the inevitable questions from her, but they never came. She pulled the shirt back up. Red turned to face her.

"You likely have questions as to why my back is so cheerfully adorned, sweetheart. Also, you know that it's unlikely that I will answer them." He chuckled lightly, buttoning the shirt again.

Lizzie straightened his collar and then stepped back, taking his measure. Her lips curled into the briefest of smiles before she returned to her seat by the fire. He sat on the opposite side of the couch and picked up a snifter of brandy.

Lizzie arched her back, stretching out the kinks, and then settled into the cushions, crossing her legs. It appeared that she was following the dance of the flames before her, entranced. A short and pensive silence fell between them. It wasn't exactly heavy, but was full of some emotion Red couldn't identify.

"Red, I am suspending my penchant for asking questions not directly related to the work at hand. We have too much to do, too much at stake to keep dancing around my curiosity and your unwillingness to satisfy it. Be assured, I will have the answers I seek someday, whether it be from your lips or if I need to run every other lead to the ground." She finished the last statement with a glare in his general direction, but her threat was delivered to wearily to bear much malice.

Red sipped the brandy, letting it roll around his palate. The smokey undertones complimented the scent and the sounds of the fire quite nicely. He briefly contemplated why fires still remained so comforting to him, even after one had caused him so much pain. _One of life's little ironies, no doubt._

He turned to look at his companion. "I agree to your terms, Lizzie. But are you truly ready to embark on this path with me? It's undoubtedly going to be difficult for you, flying under the radar. I know we have the remaining members of the task force, but I would prefer to utilize them as little as possible. The farther they stay off the trail, the they may be. And while I'm perfectly happy with a threesome here, a quintet would be a bit much for even my lascivious tendencies. Besides, Donald seems a bit straight-laced for that type of extracurricular activity."

Lizzie smirked, "Right, I'm certain you're really into polyamory, Red. You don't strike me as a person who particularly enjoys sharing attention."

Red huffed, "Well, there was that time in Rio with the two dancers, but really, I think they were more into each other then me. I was means for them to finally realize their attraction to each other. They thanked me very nicely the next morning, and then walked out, hand in hand." He smiled happily, "I felt privileged to have brought them together"

"How very altruistic of you, Red. Pardon me if I don't nominate you for a humanitarian award." Lizzie closed her eyes for a moment and put her feet up on the ottoman.

"This whole situation…it's almost too much to wrap my mind around."

His eyes slid over her relaxed profile, something he rarely witnessed. She was so beautiful in the soft light from the hearth. Her skin glowed like a porcelain lamp, illuminated from within by her fighting spirit as much as from the fire itself. She lost the weary lines around her eyes as well as the guarded set of her chin. Not for the first time, he was caught by her beauty.

One strand of hair crossed her forehead. Before he could think, his hand rose up from the back of the couch, and lightly touched her forehead, guiding the hair to the side of her face. His fingers remained at her temple and her eyes opened, curious and confused.

"I wish I could understand you, Red. I wish I was privy to your motivations in all of this. I feel something for you, something that connects us, but I don't think I'll ever be able to move forward in life until I know what it is."

Red's fingers began to move down the side of her forehead, and pulled the strand behind her ear. His fingers splayed in a mirror image of where they were before he surrendered in the park, now across her face instead of his. His fingers tapped gently against her mouth, and then rubbed back and forth, as if to calm her.

He reluctantly drew his hand away, returning to the opposite end of the couch. Red would face any fire for Lizzie, but the one that burned inside her, between them, would have to wait.

First and foremost, Berlin must fall.

AN 2: Sorry if this is terrible, it was just...necessary. Please review, if so inclined.


End file.
